


Fire and Ice

by Sioux



Series: Evergreen [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-23
Updated: 2012-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-02 10:39:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sioux/pseuds/Sioux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Second in the Evergreen series.  Sam and Dean encounter someone unexpectedly connected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire and Ice

Fire and Ice

Evergreen II

 

Sam watched his brother shift in the driving seat, for the second time in two minutes.

“You want me to take over?” he offered.

“Nah, I’m good.”

Sam turned his attention to the road ahead of them. It stretched on, empty for miles. Dean was setting a good pace on the cross country drive which was annoying Sam. Despite the time spent in hospital with Dean in a coma and their father’s death, Dean still insisted on acting as if he hadn’t been injured. Driving for long periods of time without a break made Dean’s back and hips ache and Sam couldn’t bear to see Dean hurting. He sensed Dean’s stealthy attempt at easing his spine.

“Pull over, now!” Sam ordered.

Dean was about to argue when he saw the look on his brother’s face. He flipped on the indicator and drew into the side of the road. Sam got out of the car and stretched instead of getting into the driver’s seat.

“Dude, come on. We’re wasting time,” Dean snapped.

“Take a break,” Sam snapped back. He felt bent out of shape, so God alone knew how Dean was feeling. “Getting us killed because you’re so stiff you can’t function won’t help anyone. Chill, a few minutes here won’t make a difference.”

Sam started pacing away from the car letting his mind wander, whilst Dean looked after him helplessly. 

This job, their fifth in as many weeks, was as intense as the others had been; people were disappearing over a wide swathe of country, locals and visitors alike. Their bodies turning up charred like cinders or, even worse, pieces missing and the remains still charred like cinders. The frequency of disappearances was increasing too. Dean had said it was a job for them and Sam had pinpointed the most likely culprit, an Urobach. Its touch so unclean, a prolonged hold burnt flesh and bone, otherwise it simply tore bodies apart, ate what it wished and left the rest to char and burn. The demon they had been tracking, the one responsible for the deaths of Mary, Jess and their father had simply disappeared. There hadn’t been a sign of it anywhere and they had been looking very hard. As if to compensate other paranormal occurrences were increasing. Sam turned to start walking back when the pain struck in his brain without warning. A series of images assaulted him. Himself, Dean and another person, much smaller than them. He couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman as its body was covered everywhere in camouflage clothing apart from its eyes. Dean screaming as the tall grey figure of the Urobach picked him up. The smaller figure firing a jet of liquid at it from a tank on its back. The Urobach dropping Dean then out of nowhere a solid stream of white appearing. The white stream wrapping around the Urobach. The trees and grass going white all around, the breath of the three humans in the forest turning to vapour. The Urobach was keening, a high pitched wail, until, with a sound like breaking glass, it shattered in the sudden intense cold.

Sam moaned softly in pain. Dean turned, a sixth sense warning him all was not well with his brother. He saw Sam swaying, his eyes closed.

“Sam! Sam what is it?” Dean asked racing towards him.

“Vision,” Sam gasped out.

“OK, it’s OK.” 

Dean pulled Sam’s arm over his shoulder and helped him towards the car. When they were almost at the car Sam started to pull away.

“It’s alright, Sam, we’re nearly there.”

Sam pulled away and fell to his knees, as he vomited at the side of the road. Dean fetched the bottle of water from the car. Kneeling beside Sam’s shaking form he put a hand on his shoulder.

“Finished?” he asked.

Sam gave a weary nod.

“Swill your mouth out,” Dean said, handing him the bottle. 

He swooshed some around his mouth and spat it out. Dean wet a tissue, turning Sam towards him he wiped off the sweat and let him rest against him.

“First motel we come to, we’re stopping.”

“I’m alright,” Sam whispered.

“I’m not,” Dean replied.

 

They continued on, Dean driving. Sam felt a little tired after the pain dissipated, no different to how he usually felt afterwards but Dean wasn’t prepared to let him drive in case he had another vision.

 

Dean checked them into the first motel they came to and insisted Sam took a nap, which he agreed to after a minimum of argument which worried Dean even more.  
After a few minutes of pottering quietly around the room, Dean decided to take a shower then got into bed behind Sam. Wrapping his arms around his brother he dropped a brief kiss between his shoulder blades. Sam recognising him even in sleep, snuggled closer.

 

Several hours later Dean was awakened by hands drifting over his ribs and his back, petting and stroking him. Opening his eyes he was close enough to share breath with a sleep softened Sam.

“How are you feeling?” Dean asked, his morning voice hoarse.

“I feel fine,” Sam smiled at him. “I was just tired.”

Dean brushed his hair away from his face, looking for any sign of hurt or damage. There was none. Sam appeared to be in the best of health.

“I’m fine,” he repeated. “No need to worry.”

Sam stroked the line of Dean’s eyebrow with his finger tip, the line of his cheek and traced around the curve of his lips all the while Dean regarded him, an anxious look in the back of his eyes.

“Dude, you sure you’re up for this?” Dean asked holding Sam’s head between his hands.  
Eyes sparking Sam pushed forward, his length hard and burning hot, a brand against Dean’s hip.

“Think I’m well up for it,” he replied almost laughing.

For good measure he stroked against the answering hardness, closing his eyes to savour the moment. Arousal danced over his skin, prickling and lighting him up. This wasn’t going to be a very long session if this is what he felt like after only rubbing against Dean. Mirroring Dean’s position he brought his hands up to hold Dean’s head, putting him in the perfect position for him to be kissed. Sam’s kisses were more insistent now, harder, his tongue licking along the seal of Dean’s lips, until with a soft breathy moan Dean opened his mouth letting Sam’s tongue plunge in, gathering every nuance of early morning taste. Sam loved getting this taste before peppermint toothpaste and shaving cream lay over Dean’s skin; he craved the essential pure taste of his mouth, of him. His hands went to relieve Dean of his shorts as Dean helpfully did the same for him, as well as pushing the bedclothes out of the way. Sam turned them so he lay on top of his brother, fitting together like a jigsaw. Dean opened his legs, Sam lying between, their cocks nestling in the hollow of Dean’s hips, sliding against sweat slick skin.

“Lube’s in the bag,” Dean gasped trying to maintain some coherency under the onslaught of sensual experience provided by Sam who was currently kissing, lightly biting and licking his neck.

“Fuck later, do it like this now.”

His answer was a moan as he unerringly picked the sweet spot at the side of Dean’s neck. Dean shivered at the sensation. The weight on him and the friction against him was just perfect. Sam settled into a steady rhythm, his hand sliding under Dean’s hip to pull them closer. Dean’s eyes nearly rolled back in their sockets; it was just too much mind blowing stimulation. With a series of grunts and curses he came followed a few seconds later by Sam, his face screwed up and gasping before his body relaxed completely against Dean.

 

Dean stroked his back as Sam came back down to earth. Slowly he raised his head and gazed down into Dean’s face. The look of love on Sam’s face was so clear it didn’t need words. Willingly, Dean lifted his face for sated and contented kisses, his orgasm bright and sharp still singing in his blood; soft Sammy kisses and hugs were the icing on the cake. Not that he would ever admit to enjoying this part of the act as much as he did.

A few minutes later Dean said,

“You need to move, you’re heavy.”

Grinning mischievously Sam let more of his body weight settle on Dean.

“Move! I gotta pee!”

Moving very slowly Sam let himself slide almost painfully across Dean’s full bladder, which earned him a sharp slap on the rump.

“I am not into water sports,” Dean muttered as he headed to the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later with a wet washcloth and a dry towel. The wet square was pitched with accuracy onto Sam’s crotch with a wet splat whilst Dean crouched down looking in his bag for the bottle of lube. Sam, his legs on the floor at the side of bed, supporting himself on his elbows and mouth wateringly hard again, watched him. Dean stepped over the long legs to put the bottle on the bedside table. Sam sat up, using his knees to nudge his brother’s legs wider apart. Immediately lowering his head Sam set about nursing him back to full erection. Dean closed his eyes revelling in the sure touch of mouth and hands. A few seconds later he stifled a yelp as cold lube landed between his butt cheeks.

“Gah! A little warning Sam!”

Sam looked up at him under his lashes and kissed the top of his cock in apology then bent himself to the task of spreading the lube with one hand whilst ardently suckling on his cock. 

Dean was quite happy to follow that talented mouth anywhere as long as it didn’t stop what it was doing. He buried his fingers in Sam’s hair murmuring nonsense words of encouragement, squeezing his shoulders and neck, touching his face, feeling his cock though Sam’s cheek as he sucked. As Sam moved further back on the bed, Dean obediently following him, kneeling astride him as gentle hands pulled him down, allowing him to impale himself on Sam’s burning pole, inch by inch until his buttocks were flush against Sam’s pelvis. They stayed frozen until Dean squeezed Sam’s hand, their signal that Sam could move. Minutely he rocked his hips, checking Dean’s face for any sign of discomfort. Dean had his eyes closed and his head back waiting for his body to adjust to this loving invader. He started to meet, even anticipate, each rocking motion until he stilled, his insides turning liquid in melting pleasure, then smiled.

“That’s perfect Sam,” he whispered.

Sam used the little leverage his position gave him to keep on hitting that spot, working to a steady internal rhythm he knew got Dean off, but not that quickly. He didn’t want this to be over too soon. He was more than prepared to make Dean beg for it. And beg for it he did, 

“Now Sam! Please, Sam, please! Oh, God, now!”

Eventually Sam gave in and let Dean set the pace; wildly plunging again and again. Sam sat up putting his hand across Dean’s mouth to stifle the yell he knew was coming. He let him ride out his orgasm then quickly turned them so he was able to shout his completion into the crook of Dean’s neck.  
Both men lay gasping for breath afterwards. Dean’s hips twitched as Sam softened and slipped from his body.

“You OK?” Sam checked.

“I’m more than OK,” Dean replied without opening his eyes. He felt boneless with repletion. “What’s got into you?” he asked.

“No-one - yet!”

Dean laughed softly. “You’re going to have to have a little patience on that one. So spill, what is it? You don’t usually toss me off twice first thing in the morning.”

“You complaining?” Sam asked.

“Hell no, just wondering.”

“Opportunity. We don’t seem to have had much chance.”

“Day before yesterday,” Dean said, after a pause.

“What?”

“The last time we had sex, day before yesterday.”

“That was a quickie in the library toilet when we were supposed to be researching the Urobach.”

Dean smiled. “I have nothing against quickies. Time before that was Tuesday evening, then Monday morning, three times on Sunday. In fact we’ve had sex virtually every day for the past three weeks. Opportunity is not the correct answer.”

Sam sighed. Dean wasn’t going to let go of this.

“Sam, that monster is not going to kill me. Well, not before your demands on my body do.”

Sam rolled to his back.

“It’s going to hurt you. And I’m not sure I can stop it. I’m going to have to see you hurting.”

“Just do your job bro, that’s all I can ask,” he replied rolling out of bed. “Come on, let’s get a shower.”

 

They were on the road again an hour after breakfast where the brother’s went over their plan. They were intending to set up camp about ten miles from the last disappearance which should attract the creature. It had always taken people from between eight and twelve miles away from the previous one and always in an East to West direction. If the plan worked they would be using flare guns to deliver CO2 bombs into the creature, working on the principle that if enough of the bombs hit it they would cool it enough to kill it.

 

The roads, which weren’t congested, became ever more deserted. When they turned onto the forest road they hadn’t seen another vehicle in over seventy miles. A couple of miles down the track Sam pointed out a thin wisp of smoke to Dean.

“Probably a cabin set back there. Don’t get snatched,” he added.

“Give you the chance to play hero.”

“Thought I’d always been your hero.” 

Sam laughed but didn’t deny it.

 

Dean pulled the car off the track into a small clearing.

“Looks perfect for making camp.”

Sam agreed with his brother’s assessment of the area. A small clear space with a backing of mature trees. It corresponded with the descriptions given for the disappearances so far. Efficiently they pitched camp; their two man tent to one side of a fire pit. 

“Let’s get the flares together and we’ll take a scout around,” Dean said, heading towards the trunk of the car. 

Loading up with spare CO2 bombs and reaching for the same flare gun, Sam grinned then leaned in and kissed Dean; a passionate, carnal kiss on the mouth. Breaking for air Dean gazed into Sam’s eyes before holding his head and returning the kiss. In the tree-line, a figure, swathed from head to foot in camouflage gear, quietly watched them. Then, just as quietly, withdrew back into the forest.

 

It was a warm afternoon so Sam and Dean had locked their coats in the car. Before they’d gone more than twenty feet inside the tree-line Dean was regretting not being dressed in more layers. Mosquitoes were making a meal out of him. Their walk through the trees was accompanied, every few steps, by the sound of slaps as he tried to kill the hungry little blood suckers.

“Didn’t you bring any repellent?” Sam asked without looking around.

“I forgot how much they like me and leave you alone.”

Sam wasn’t helping by grinning broadly at his discomfort. 

 

They found nothing on that sortie through the trees though Sam did think he’d heard something deeper in the forest a couple of times. On the second look around at dusk almost immediately they both had the feeling they were being watched. A soft footfall had them taking up defensive positions automatically. A small figure stepped out in front of Sam who brought up his flare gun ready to fire, his brother following suit. The figure spoke,

“Dean, Sam I’m a friend of your father.”

Sam kept his flare gun pointed at the woman. Dean lowered his slightly.

“Who are you?” Dean asked.

“Blanche, Blanche Darracott.”

“What are you doing out here?” Sam asked.

“Probably the same as you,” she replied.

Behind Sam a long grey figure detached itself from a tree.

“Sam! Look out!” Dean shouted.

Blanche yelled, “Get down!” as she activated the tank on her back. A long stream of white liquid spurted out towards the creature, vapour trailing all the way. Sam hit the ground. The creature screamed away from the cold liquid.

“What is that?” Sam shouted.

“Liquid nitrogen,” she shouted back.

The creature screamed again as a tendril of the nitrogen touched it. It curled away and dealt Dean a glancing blow, knocking his flare gun out of his hand. It scuttled back then seeming to change its mind it picked Dean up by his left arm. Dean screamed in pain, the sound oddly high pitched. Blanche couldn’t operate the tank without hitting Dean and Sam couldn’t fire for the same reason. The creature seemed to be trying to tear Dean’s arm off at the shoulder. Dean screamed again, the sound more drawn out. It hurt Sam to hear that sound. He lifted his hand, palm out, towards the Urobach’s legs and shouted, 

“No!”

A column of white leapt towards the Urobach, turning the whole clearing white with several centimetres of frost. The Urobach howled and dropped Dean to the floor. Another column of white snow and frost shot from Sam’s open hand, joining with the liquid nitrogen from Blanche’s tank. The creature stopped, frozen in that position, its mouth open wide and its limbs still and glassy. For a moment there was a stunned silence. Blanche and Sam were shocked at what he had just done. Then Blanche ran forward, picking up a fallen tree branch which she used to hit the Urobach’s legs. The creature’s whole body shattered, exploding outwards with a sound like breaking glass.

 

Seeing Dean lying so still, his body misshapen, spurred Sam to move to him. He felt incredibly tired but the adrenaline provided his energy. Blanche appeared beside him and began to check Dean over in a very professional manner.

“He has a dislocated shoulder as well as the burns,” she told Sam. “We need to reduce the dislocation, preferably before he regains consciousness. He’ll be in pain enough from the burns without adding anything else.”

Sam stared at her.

“I’m a medical doctor,” she said. “I’ll need you to help me. Can you do that?”

He nodded. Anything to help Dean. 

Smoothly Blanche told Sam what to do; he needed to pull Dean’s body one way whilst Blanche manipulated the joint back into its rightful place. It was hard work but Sam summoned up the strength to do his bit. It looked like something out of a medieval book of torture. Two people bent over a third, apparently trying to tear his body apart with their bare hands, the scene barely lit by the frozen shattered pieces of the Urobach.  
Dean began to awaken from the pain being inflicted on him. He struggled against the hands all over him.

“Dean, try and keep still,” Sam grunted maintaining the steady traction Blanche needed to get his shoulder back. 

Blanche pushed and felt the joint start to slide back. Dean yelled as his brain reported in on the pain in his shoulder and the pain of the burning, deep down in his flesh from where the Urobach had touched his skin. Blanche was fumbling in her pocket. She pulled out two styrettes one of which she stuck into Dean’s arm.

“That should start working soon. Don’t let him touch your bare skin Sam. That will transfer the burns to you too. Do you have any gloves?”

Sam shook his head. Even his coat was locked in the car. The car, there were gloves in the trunk.

“We have some gloves in the trunk of the car.”

“Go get them.”

Sam set off at a run. Tripping over tree roots in the dark until he remembered his torch. Returning quickly he had a blanket for Dean plus gloves and his coat. Blanche nodded at him and draped the blanket carefully over Dean, who seemed to be in slightly less pain. Donning the gloves he took an arm and helped Dean up, Blanche fitting comfortably under Dean’s other arm. She was as small as in Sam’s vision. If either brother had been in the mood for merriment they would have laughed at the sight. This small woman, all of five feet four and plump trying to help six feet and all muscle. However, once they were moving Sam revised his opinion; Blanche was a lot stronger than she looked.  
Together they helped Dean into the back of the car.

“Take the track back towards the road, there’s a cabin a couple of miles away.”

“We saw it on the way in,” Sam replied.

 

At the cabin Sam parked as close to the door as possible. Her own estate car was tucked away at the side. She helped Sam get Dean inside. As he was manoeuvring his brother through the door Sam heard a cry.

“What was that?” he asked.

“What?”

“That noise, like an animal.”

“I didn’t hear anything, Sam,” Blanche replied closing and barring the door. “Take him through the far door, second door on your left into the bathroom. We need to get him cleansed.”

 

Even through the morphine Dean was feeling sick, his skin pale and sweaty. Dr Darracott didn’t waste time. She started a bath running after directing Sam to sit Dean down on the bathroom chair, then left the room returning seconds later with a black case. She extracted a phial of clear liquid and what looked like a small plastic gun. From her pocket she took out a set of rosary beads which she handed to Sam.  
“Prayer of blessing, then put them in the bath,” she ordered briskly.   
Sam obeyed, not really registering that she obviously assumed he would know a prayer of blessing.

“What’s that?” Dean asked quietly.

“Air hypo, like a hypodermic syringe only no needles, works on compressed air.”

Sam completed the blessing and dropped the beads into the bath thereby transforming it into holy water. Dean knew that was going to hurt like hell when he got in there but it was necessary.

“Let’s get you undressed,” she said quietly to Dean. 

Dean was not very happy. He had no problem showing his body, but not in front of a strange woman when intimacy was certainly not going to occur. Sam came across to help him. Blanche cut most of the t-shirt off him, as it was sticking to the burns then had him sit in the bath in his shorts. Before she began to pour the water over his burnt shoulder she used the air hypo. It made a strange whooshing crack.

“What did you give me?” Dean demanded.

“Anaesthetic. Count backwards from ten.”

The shot was already starting to take effect. Sam knelt at the side of the bath holding him, still wearing his gloves. He struggled to hear Dean’s whisper of,

“..eight..”

Blanche handed a jug to Sam and they began to ladle the water over Dean’s head, neck and shoulders. It bubbled like acid when it fell on the burns. Again and again they poured jugs of the cleansing fluid over Dean until eventually the hissing effervescence stopped. Lifting Dean out of the bath now that he was wet and slippery was difficult but they managed. Laying him down on the towels on the floor Sam dried his brother then lifted his upper body up so that Blanche could put dressings on the angry red burns which stretched down his left arm and across his shoulders back and front.

“Think you can carry him next door?” she asked Sam. 

He nodded, despite feeling deathly tired. Blanche went ahead and turned down the sheet on one of the twin beds the room contained. Laying him down from the fireman’s lift he let Blanche take care of him whilst he sank down onto the other bed.   
Sam realise he must have nodded off when he felt Blanche taking his shoes off and pulling the blankets over him.

“It’s OK Sam,” she said. “Get some sleep.”

“Dean?”

“He’s sleeping off the anaesthetic. I’m just going to get some water and painkillers for him.”

Sam nodded and closed his eyes, too tired to even question this strange woman who claimed she knew their father.

 

Dean began to stir restlessly, so she dosed him up with painkillers. Several times Blanche checked on Sam without waking him. He slept through until morning without moving. She sat between the beds for the rest of the night keeping watch over both men.

 

After dawn broke Blanche got up and made herself some coffee. As she sat sipping the hot brew back in the boys’ bedroom she noticed Dean watching her.

“Good morning,” she said softly. “How are you feeling?”

“OK,” Dean croaked. 

“How’s the pain?”

“Not bad.”

“On a scale of one to ten, where ten is unbearable?”

“About four. Do you have another cup of coffee?”

“Sure, I’ll get it.”

She returned with coffee and more heavy duty painkillers.

“So, how did you know Dad?” he asked, swallowing the tablets with the coffee.

“He came to see me about seven months after the fire which killed my husband and baby son. Pretended to be a reporter, only I saw through that and demanded he told me the truth. At first I wondered if either he or I were mentally ill, but I knew what I’d seen.”

“Go on,” Dean encouraged finally feeling as if he were getting some answers. “What did you see?”

“The black shadow beside David’s cot then I was being held on the ceiling and cut. Then the fire. Same thing that happened to your family.”

“How did you escape?”

“Ceiling collapsed. Was either weak or badly built. It protected me until the fire fighters got in. They found Richard beside Davy’s cot. He must have been trying to get him out.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean said.

“I’m sorry you lost your Mum.”

“How did you know who we are? I don’t remember ever meeting you?”

“You haven’t. John spoke about you often and showed me photographs. Our paths have crossed many times over the years. We both want to rid the world of that demon.”

“You’re a hunter too?”

“Not really. I don’t travel the country looking for paranormal happenings, like you and your father. If anything comes near, I deal with it and watch out for signs that the demon is abroad.”

“You do know about Dad?”

She nodded sadly. 

“He was a good man, Dean. A man of great integrity.”

Dean agreed. “We thought we nearly had it just before ….Dad. Thought it was all going to be over.” He paused.

“Tell me?”

Dean explained how they’d tracked it. The possessions, the colt, being side-swiped by the truck, his coma and their Dad dying. Given his usually reticent nature he was surprised at himself. He rarely told anyone about the hunting. There was something about Blanche. Whether it was a sense of connection because she had lost her family in similar circumstances to him; he didn’t know, but he felt he could trust her. When he he’d finished she was quiet for a while.

“How many bullets did you have left?”

“One.”

She nodded, still deep in thought.

“How’s Sam doing?”

She jerked herself out of her reverie.

“He’s sleeping naturally.”

They swapped glances before she asked,

“Does he do that a lot?”

Dean looked down at the blanket as he shook his head.

“Has he ever done anything like that before?”

“He has visions sometimes.”

She raised her eyebrows as she said,

“I’d say he just graduated from visions.”

“Are you sure he’s OK?”

“He’s exhausted, but that’s about all. He needs rest. Freezing the Urobach and half the forest took a lot of energy!”

Dean was fidgeting, trying to sit up against his pillows.

“Here, let me help.” 

She put her hand behind Dean’s elbow, telling him to do the same to her then effortlessly pulled him upright. Dean’s fingers felt the crinkled burned skin on the back of her arm. He knew his arm and shoulder would end up like that, scarred, as a result of the Urobach touching him.

“Did he talk to you after you cleaned me up?”

Blanche shook here head. 

“He helped me with you and then fell asleep.”

Dean looked at her properly for the first time that morning. She wasn’t as old as he had first thought, maybe around the early forties mark.

“You look like you could do with some rest.”

“I can’t really leave you two.”

“Yes you can. Sammy is sleeping, I’m OK for a while. Just leave some pills and get a few hours sleep.”

Blanche mulled the suggestion over.

“OK,” she agreed. “No more pills in under four hours. Call me if either of you need anything.”

“Will do.”

“Thanks Dean.”

“We’re thanking you.”

She smiled at him tiredly. Despite the fatigue it gave Dean a glimpse of the woman his father met twenty years ago.

 

Sam was dreaming, or at least he assumed he was dreaming; he could hear his father speaking but he couldn’t understand what he was saying. He opened his eyes but darkness all around him stopped him from seeing anything.

“Dad, Dad I can’t understand you!”

There was a moment’s pause then John’s voice began speaking again but still Sam couldn’t understand what his father was trying to say to him.

“Dad I don’t understand!” he cried out. 

John’s voice began again, sounding more patient than he had ever heard him in life. In the background of John’s voice another sound intruded. At first Sam thought it was an animal, a young animal crying out. The same sound he had heard when he’d helped Blanche bring Dean in. Then the sound resolved itself; it was a baby crying.

 

Dean woke from his painkiller induced slumber to hear Sammy muttering and moving about in his sleep. He lay for a few minutes listening, trying to make out what Sam was saying. The only words he could make out were ‘Dad’. Dean sighed. Sam was dreaming about their father. He waited to see if Sam would settle again, but he showed no sign of doing so. Struggling he swung his legs over the side of the bed, gritting his teeth against the pain. 

“Sam, Sammy, wake up!”

Sam woke up with a start.

“Dean?”

“You were talking in your sleep,” Dean said, making his way back to his bed.

Sam swallowed hard and rubbed his hands across his eyes.

“What was I saying?”

Dean carefully settled himself against the pillows before replying,

“Couldn’t hear most of it.”

Sam nodded. The dream, vivid though it had been, was already fading.

“Sorry to wake you.”

“S’OK.”

“How are you feeling?”

“OK,” Dean lied.

Sam half smiled.

“How are you really feeling?”

“Could you get me some water, to take the pills?”

Willingly, Sam got out of bed. He made his way through the door and past the bathroom. As he was passing the door to Blanche’s room he glanced in through the slightly ajar door. Suddenly the darkened room flushed with light then it settled to a steady dim glow from a low wattage lamp on the dresser. Two people were moving on the bed, obviously having sex, the woman straddling the man, his head hidden against her breast until he put his face up to hers to kiss her. For a split second Sam recognised his own father. The woman’s back was scarred from burns, her hair short and wavy - Blanche! Dad and Blanche. Sam blinked but when he looked again the room was in darkness and all was silence. Shaking his head he went into the kitchen, filled a glass with water and returned to the room he was sharing with his brother. Giving Dean the glass he pushed two pills from the blister pack and helped Dean take them.

“What’s up?” Dean asked noticing the pre-occupied look on Sam’s face.

Sam shook his head.

“Come on, what is it?”

Sam took a deep breath.

“When I passed Blanche’s room I…,” he coughed, embarrassed. 

“What?”

“I saw Dad.”

“Dad?”

“It was like a flashback, just a few seconds. I saw him and Blanche….” He let his voice trail off.

“Him and Blanche?”

“You know.”

“No, I don’t know.”

“They were…having sex!”

He glanced at Dean who was leaning back against the pillows. Dean shrugged slightly saying,

“Well I suppose he must have gotten laid at some point in the last twenty years.”

“This was recent, last year or so.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “And you know this how?”

“Don’t know, just know.” Sam asked, “What are we going to do?”

“What can we do? They were lovers at some time. It’s not a crime, Sammy. He’s human.” Dean stopped then corrected himself. “He was human. He wanted comfort, same as we all do.”

Sam went to sit on the side of the bed, leaning his forehead against Dean’s. Dean kissed him softly running his hand down the side of Sam’s face then winced as he moved his arm and shoulder unwisely.

Very gently Sam touched the side of Dean’s neck, his fingers twined with his on his uninjured side. He’d literally seen this coming and couldn’t do anything to prevent it. What use were these stupid visions if he couldn’t do anything to alter the outcome? Sammy kept his eyes closed, still leaning in against Dean’s forehead, sharing breath with his brother then he rubbed his nose against Dean’s, which elicited a quiet giggle from Dean.

“Eskimo kisses, at your age, Sam? You used to do that when you were four.”

Sam smiled, still with his eyes closed. He knew he could help Dean, somehow. He could feel it in his bones, the knowledge sang in his blood but frustratingly his mind couldn’t access it. He kissed Dean again. Making love to him was out of the question; Dean was in far too much pain, even with the painkillers. As soft as a butterfly’s wing he laid his hand on top of the bandages, still keeping hold of Dean’s other hand and just stayed like that. After the initial tensing from Dean, he relaxed into the position.   
Sam began to drift letting his mind make leaps and bounds where ever it wanted. From a long way away he heard Dean talking,

“Dude, you asleep there?”

He shook his head, barely moving. His eyes opened briefly, getting a close up of Dean’s eyes, small pupils and lots of hazel green iris, due to the opiates kicking in. Sam’s eyes fluttered shut again. A feeling of warmth stole through his hands, very slight at first then stronger, but still a peaceful feeling.

“Your hands feel really warm, Sammy,” Dean whispered.

Sammy moved his thumb over Dean’s lips. He was literally feeling his way here and didn’t want any distractions. Another presence at his back warned Sammy they weren’t alone. Then a much loved and missed voice in his mind said,

“Son, just think about what you want to do.”

What did he want to do? Take away Dean’s pain, the pain he hadn’t been able to prevent happening.

Quietly John said,

“You did do something Sammy, you stopped the Urobach incinerating your brother.”

As Sam tensed up the warmth dissipated.

“Relax Sam,” John said, “Just let it happen.”

Slowly Sam relaxed, the tension quickly seeping from his shoulders. The warmth returned, flowing from his hands into Dean.

“These must be a good lot of pills Sam, the pain really is going.” Dean waited for a reply. “You asleep Sam?”

As the warmth flowed, ever faster from him, Sam began feeling weak. Then he realised that although he had managed to tap into this power, he didn’t know how to stop. His father’s voice in his mind was telling him to stop, to let go and stop but he couldn’t. He couldn’t lift his hands. John’s voice was sounding frantic now. 

Sorry Dad, he thought. I don’t know how to stop.

“Sam. Sammy you OK?”

Dean moved his arm and felt no pain. In fact he was feeling remarkably well. Comprehension burst over him like a firework. This wasn’t a result of the pills.

“Sam, what are you doing? Sammy!” 

Dean’s voice was rising with his panic. Sam’s face was getting paler and he was leaning on Dean more and more.

“Sammy, stop whatever you’re doing, stop it, now!”

“Can’t!” he whispered.

Dean stared into his brother’s eyes, as frightened as each other. Sam couldn’t consciously stop this, whatever it was, ergo he needed to get Sam unconscious, fast. He swallowed hard. If he did this wrong or for too long, he would be responsible for brain damaging his little brother. Carefully Dean put his hands around Sam’s neck, his fingers at the points his father had taught him and squeezed. 

Sam’s eyes fluttered as he mouthed,

“Love you.”

“I love you too, Sammy,” he replied through his tears as Sam’s eyes rolled back and closed then Dean let go. Letting Sam’s body fall onto him.

“Blanche!” Dean shouted as loud as he could as he rolled Sam onto the bed and got out. 

The door burst open as Blanche ran in.

“What happened?”

“I had to stop him, he was killing himself.”

Blanche didn’t even bother to try and work out Dean’s cryptic utterances. Instead, turning her attention to her new patient she began a swift examination.  
Sam’s pulse was weak, thready. He was deeply unconscious and she could see finger bruises forming on his neck.

“I had to stop him,” Dean whispered. “He was dying.”

“What was he doing?”

“He was taking the pain away.”

Blanche turned and looked fully at Dean.

“How are you feeling?”

“Physically fine. Have I hurt him?”

“He’s breathing and he has a pulse, there’s nothing more I can do for him. How’s your arm and shoulder?”

“Fine. They’re itching, I think the bandages need to come off.”

“That’s not advisable…”

“Please Blanche.”

She sighed before saying,

“Alright, let me get my bag.”

She covered Sam then left the room returning a few minutes later. She told Dean to sit in the wooden chair whilst she took out a pair of sterile scissors.

“You must tell me if this hurts.”

Dean nodded.

Blanche carefully cut the outer layers of bandage, watching Dean for any sign of discomfort. She put down the scissors and unwound the remaining layers then she gasped. The skin underneath was perfect. No burns, scars or discolouration.

“That isn’t possible!” she said.

“He healed me, didn’t he?”

Blanche continued to cut off the rest of the bandages and dressings. Every inch of the skin across Dean’s shoulders and down his arm was perfect. Sinking down on the edge of the bed Blanche could only stare. This went against every iota of medical information she possessed on burns.

“How did he do that?” she asked.

“He… just touched me,” Dean replied standing up and stretching. It felt good to be able to move freely again.

“Will Sam recover?” he asked. 

Blanche was still mesmerised.

“Blanche?”

“Pardon?”

“Will Sammy recover?”

“I can’t find any injuries apart from the few bruises. How long did you cut off the blood flow?”

“A few seconds. I didn’t want to damage his brain.”

She nodded.

“As far as I can tell, he seems to be exhausted.”

“As far as you can tell? I thought you were a doctor?” Dean shouted.

“The patients I usually treat don’t have the ability to heal second degree burns in a matter of minutes!” she replied, raising her voice to match. “I have never encountered anything like this!”

Dean took a deep breath and said,

“I’m sorry, I’m just worried about him. What can we do?”

“Keep him warm, keep an eye on him, keep talking to him. If he doesn’t show signs of coming around by this evening I’m going to take him to hospital.”

“OK, I’ll take first watch.”

“How about some food?”

Dean smiled.

 

Blanche made eggs, toast, bacon and coffee which contained a healthy slug of scotch which Dean ate and drank gratefully. After she’d left, Dean climbed on the bed behind Sam, his arm around him and he began to talk softly. Saying aloud whatever thought popped into his head. He talked until his throat was dry and sore then he got up and found a book and began to read aloud to his brother.

 

Sam opened his eyes to silence and a lamp lighting the darkened room. He had a vague memory of Dean talking to him but he couldn’t see his brother. He tried to turn over but a weight was pinning the bedclothes behind him. Carefully he manoeuvred and turned over to find himself face to face with Dean, stretched over the top of the bedclothes in his jeans and a tee-shirt. He was looking a lot better than the last time Sam remembered seeing him. He traced the outline of Dean’s well-shaped lips with his fingertips. Dean snuffled and opened his eyes.

“Sam? Sammy?” Dean whispered.

“Mmmm?”

“You alright?”

Sam nodded. 

Sam smelled sleep warmed and slightly sweaty. His early morning scent.  
Dean took his face between his palms and shook him hard.

“What the hell did you think you were doing, you fuckwit?”

“What?”

Sam’s eyes opened wide.

“I thought you were dying! You were fading away in front of my eyes. You were leaving me again.”

Dean was angry and frightened.

“What the fuck did you think I would do without you?”

Dean could feel his eyes burning with the desperate need to cry. Sam reached out to run his fingers down Dean’s face. Dean lowered his head crushing their lips together. The kiss was violent, brutal even and Dean didn’t let up even when he tasted the tang of blood. Sam pulled Dean’s tee-shirt off him; they both went after the fastenings on his jeans, getting in each other’s way in an effort to remove the offending garment, until Dean was as naked as Sam. Hands grabbing at skin, fingers kneading deep into muscle as both men worked off the fear and temper. They turned, bodies writhing together, skin becoming hot and sweat slicked. Dean rolled them both so he was on top. He bent his neck seeking out a rosy puckered nipple and bit down. Sam’s back arched, his head thrashing on the pillow as his hands pressed him even harder to his breast. Dean licked at the wound. 

“Fuck me!” Sam whispered urgently.

“How do you want it?” Dean growled.

“Hard. Hard and fast.”

 

Whatever Sammy asked for, Dean provided.

 

Sammy’s head lay across Dean’s shoulder, floating in a half aware state, his nose pressed against his neck, inhaling and occasionally tasting the sweat on his brother’s skin. Slowly, like someone turning up the volume on a radio, Sam could hear the cries of a baby. His shoulder muscles tensed as he lifted his head.

“Sam?” Dean muttered, having trouble opening his eyes.

“Can you hear that?” Sam asked.

“Hear what?”

“That baby crying.”

“I can’t hear anything.”

Grabbing his jeans and a tee-shirt Sammy hurriedly dressed and left the bedroom, closely followed by a very unwilling Dean. Padding barefoot, almost silently, down the corridor he was about to enter the kitchen when John’s voice, sounding as if he were standing next to him said very clearly,

“Sam, be careful.”

Sam stopped, Dean bumping into him. Before he could speak Sam had his hand across his mouth motioning for silence. Dean nodded.  
Quietly he slipped through the door. The door to the cabin was standing open and through it Sam could see Blanche going through their weapons store in the trunk of the car. Both brothers moved to either side of the outside door waiting for her to come back in. When the door slammed they moved in front of it.

“What were you looking for Blanche?” Sam asked.

Blanche was startled but she recovered quickly and seeing their faces she knew bluffing wouldn’t work.

“The colt, the demon killer. John was known to be the last person to have it. I need it.”

“It’s useless without the bullets,” Dean said silkily.

“I have enough bullets, I just need the gun.”

“Colt only made thirteen, twelve have been used,” Sam continued.

She smiled and shook her head. “On the first casting. Seven years later, under the light of Comet Encke he cast a further seven bullets.” 

She turned to the bookshelf at the back of the room, where an old fashioned gun belt was slung casually across the edge of the bookcase. She took the first three bullets out of the leather loops. 

“These are the final three from the second casting.”

The noise of the child crying was getting louder and louder.

“How do you know those are the right ones?” Sam asked through the racket.

“Because I spent the best part of twenty years tracking them down,” she replied.

“Did Dad know about this?” Dean asked.

Sam could hardly hear him or Blanches’ reply.

“For God’s sake will someone stop that baby crying!” Sam shouted.

Blanche stopped speaking, her face paling.

“I can’t hear anything Sam,” Dean said carefully.

“Please, just make it stop!” Sam shouted. 

Another voice, deeper and drawling overlay the child crying.

“Sam, I know why she’s doing this now.”

“Why?”

“Why what, Sam?” Dean asked, getting worried.

“She’s protecting someone, someone I didn’t know existed,” John told him.

“Who?” he asked.

Dean kept quiet, whilst Blanche looked between them both trying to figure out if this was some sort of distraction. She pulled the old gun from the belt and tried to cover both young men with it.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I need that gun. I won’t keep it. I only need it for a month or so,” she told them.

“I don’t know what he’s playing at either. Could he have a head injury?” Dean asked.

Blanche tried to gauge Dean’s expression.

“When was the last time you saw her?” Sam was asking. 

He appeared to listen intently then said, 

“Just over a year!” 

He closed his eyes and sighed. 

“We have a half brother.” 

He opened his eyes, looked at Dean and repeated, 

“We have a half brother!”

Dean’s eyes opened wider.

John carried on speaking to Sam.

“I need your help Sam, I can talk her down. She doesn’t have to worry about the baby.”

“Where the hell is she keeping it?” Sam asked, causing both Dean and Blanche to glance at each other at his apparently disjointed conversation.

“She has a sister, next county over. I’m betting that’s where he is.”

“What do you need, Dad?”

Both Dean and Blanche raised their heads at that.

“Sam, Dad’s gone,” Dean said gently. “Come on, sit down.” 

He made a move to guide Sam to a chair at the kitchen table. 

Blanche was genuinely confused. If this was an act, it was a good one. And how Sam knew about her son, she couldn’t imagine.

“Can you repeat everything I say?” John asked.

“Yes,” Sam replied.

Dean watched as his brother stood up straight and turned to Blanche.

“Blanche, he’s safe. You don’t have to worry about the demon coming for him.”

Sam felt a cool breeze then a feeling of a presence behind him, then it was within him. Unexpected pain radiated out from every pore in his body; he couldn’t help a soft moan as his brain registered the agony then, as almost as soon as it had started, it stopped.

“Dad!” Sam gasped, feeling beads of perspiration gather at his hairline and on his top lip even from that brief moment. 

“I’m so sorry Sammy, I didn’t mean for that to happen,” John said, genuine regret colouring his tone. “I didn’t mean to get so close.”

He felt his father’s presence trying to pull away from him.

“No, it’s OK, go on,” Sam said breathlessly. 

After a second, Sam/John said to Blanche,

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Dean was feeling out of his depth. Sam’s voice was changing, becoming deeper, his accent was changing too. He was rooted to the spot as his father’s voice issued from between his brother’s lips.

Blanche simply stared.

“John?” she whispered in wonder. “Is that really you?”

“It’s me. Why didn’t you contact me? Why didn’t you tell me about the baby?”

She shook her head. 

“I couldn’t risk it, John. You act like a beacon for them, all the evil things. I didn’t want either of us drawing attention to him. Not this time. That’s why I need that gun, John. With you as his father and me his mother, the demon is going to want him. That demon is not taking this child.”

“It won’t take him. It can’t take him,” John’s voice replied through Sam.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

Blanche searched the hazel eyes in front of her. The eyes were similar to her memories of John but the face was impossibly young.

“Dad, what did you do?” Dean asked stiffly.

Sam/John turned to regard him.

“I did the only thing I could to keep my children safe from the demon and its kind.”

Dean closed his eyes in pain. So it was true, his father had given his life for him, to save him.

“And I’d do it again and again,” Sam/John said.

“That was the phrase?” Blanche asked, “Your children?”

Sam/John nodded.

“Even though I didn’t know about him at the time, the demon is bound by his word to keep my children safe. The baby is safe from supernatural harm or death.”

Sighing she asked,

“How do I know you’re not the demon?”

“You don’t. You’re going to have to trust me.”

“I’d rather trust the colt.”

Sam/John shook his head regretfully.

“The colt was part of the deal.”

”John!”

“Forgive me, but I couldn’t stand by and watch Dean die and then see the same happen to Sammy or even worse, watch the demon use Sammy.”

Sam/John reached out a hand to touch Blanche’s face.

“I need to go now,” John said, “This takes a lot of energy from Sam and neither Dean nor Sam know how to control that yet.”

Blanche nodded and accepted the offered kiss on her lips.

Sam/John turned to Dean; Dean’s face was wet with tears he didn’t know he’d shed.

“Dean, Sammy going to be disorientated. Look after him.”

He nodded not trusting himself to speak.

Sam/John put both hands on each side of Dean’s face and looked into his eyes.

“My choice Dean. You’re my son and I would do anything to keep you safe. I love you.”

Still Dean couldn’t speak.

“You need to go to see Missouri, she can help you and Sam with this. Do you understand?”

Dean nodded.

Sam’s eyes fluttered, the only sign something was happening until he leaned heavily on Dean.

“Miss you!” Dean whispered, thinking he was too late. He helped Sam into a chair. “I miss you, Dad,” he said again.

Sam leaned tiredly against Dean.

“He already knows,” Sam told him softly.

 

Before they’d cleared the forest road, after saying goodbye to Blanche, Sam was logged in on his laptop, surfing the net. Blanche hadn’t offered and neither Dean nor Sam wanted to see their baby half brother at the moment.

“What are you looking for, dude? Dad said we need to see Missouri.”

“I know.”

“So?” 

“We have to find a way to break the contract Dad made.”

“Don’t think demonic contracts work the same way as those in court, Sam,” he replied dryly.

“We’re getting him out of there,” Sam said firmly, eyes down, concentrating on the screen in front of him.

A frown gathered on Dean’s handsome face as he concentrated on the road ahead. 

Briefly Sam allowed his mind to go back to the few seconds when he had allowed his father to take over his body. Before John had suppressed the sensation, Sam had caught only a little of what their father was enduring. He stopped thinking and continued with his research. There was no way he was allowing their father to continue in such agony for a second longer than necessary, and there was no way he was telling Dean about it either. 

 

Sam knew he was getting more and more like John with each passing day and he was hoping Missouri could help them as she’d helped their father. At the back of his mind, he knew Dean was a key part of control of his new abilities. How Dean could provide the control he lacked, he didn’t yet know. 

 

The sound of a contented baby gurgling temporarily disturbed Sam’s concentration. Baby Sean was becoming quite adept at making contact with one of his older siblings; no mean feat at five months old. And Sam had the feeling that all three Winchester brothers would be instrumental in assisting their old man in the future. 

In it’s greed to accept John’s sacrifice Sam thought the demon may have made its biggest mistake ever.

© Sioux 8/11/06


End file.
